


Just Ask Me

by pinchess07



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dancing, Fluff, Get Together, Graves Lives, Graves makes it better, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, MACUSA Christmas Ball, Mating Dance, Newt bby no, Newt cries, Sad Newt, What Have I Done, Yes they dance together, all the feels, courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 01:04:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9049093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinchess07/pseuds/pinchess07
Summary: For a prompt at the km: Newt has a big old crush on Graves and has to figure out a way to woo him and/or ask him out on a date. The only problem is that Newt has no clue how to do that.. Well the obvious choice is to ask his creatures for some help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'ed.

"I never expected I'd ever feel this way, Dougal," Newt whispers to the Demiguise in his arms. Dougal looks back at him calmly, listening patiently, knowing Newt craved a listener and confidant. "When I was at Hogwarts, I observed human mating habits as much as I could, and found it needlessly chaotic. Each human has a preference, different to that of the others."  
  
Newt stops, shying away from thoughts of Leta as he always did, and decides to jump over that particular topic. It would always hurt, but he wouldn't let it stop him from living his life.  
  
"The years I spent around the world and in various human communities haven't changed my opinion. It seems every time I cross a border, the human mating rituals change into something harder to understand, as if there are several human species walking this earth, with a completely different set of required behavior. This is why creature mating habits are comparatively easier to study."  
  
Dougal hums encouragingly, and Newt takes heart.  
  
"Yet I can't help thinking about it, Dougal. I find myself looking at Mister Graves across the room, and I wonder, _what do I have to do for him to consider me as a possible mate?_ I get the feeling that I'll go barmy if I don't act on it soon. My instincts tell me that he's in his prime, and if I don't make a move, I'll lose him to some other witch... Or wizard..."  
  
Dougal chitters in short bursts, and Newt sighs.  
  
"...I suppose. What I am sure about him is that...that he is very passionate about his job. He loves catching law breakers and fighting against dark wizards make him smile. The one with all his teeth, not the small, tender one I saw on him the other morning."  
  
Dougal clicks his tongue three times, then rubs Newt's arm. Newt perks up.  
  
"That could work!"  
  
\- -  
  
It doesn't work.  
  
Newt gets a dislocated shoulder, rope burns on his wrists and a broken ankle for his trouble.  
  
On top of it all, Mister Graves has been shouting at him for at least an hour with no signs of stopping. Newt zones out somewhere around the sixth iteration of _you're a civilian, you endangered yourself needlessly, how could you be so careless_.  
  
Mister Graves shows no appreciation for Newt's (successful) effort to bring criminals into Mister Graves' jurisdiction for easier capture. Mister Graves' smile doesn't make an appearance even once the whole time he fought, and Newt doesn't understand what's different from before. Mister Graves doesn't look satisfied or relieved when the criminals are brought in and marched off to prison.  
  
"Scamander! Are you even listening?" Mister Graves demands, making Newt flinch. He continues in a softer, gentler tone, "What are you thinking, Newt?"  
  
"You should be back at MACUSA, interrogating the criminals. Or writing reports to Madam President. That's what you usually do after an operation of this sort..." Newt says to the floor, _thinking don't go, you can shout at me more, just stay_.  
  
Why can't he ever get things right when it comes to humans?  
  
"You think I would prefer to write a report instead of being here? Mercy Lewis, you were injured, Newt!" Mister Graves says incredulously. Newt hunches in on himself further.  
  
"I-I was. But not anymore. The Healer said I could go, maybe an hour ago. I'd have to watch my step and make sure not to do any strenuous activities for at least three days, but I'm fine. You can go back to MACUSA. I'm... I apologize for troubling you, Mister Graves."  
  
He wants to cry, wants to have Dougal hug him. It seems he is only making Mister Graves angrier with every word he speaks. He wants to prostrate himself on the floor and beg for forgiveness for his miscalculation. He knows what's coming: Mister Graves will cut all ties with him, will refuse to see him again.  
  
There's a precedent, and he doesn't want to think about it. Nonetheless, it stays in the back of his mind.  
  
~~The way Leta used to smile at him, full of teeth, goading him, daring him~~  
  
The way he had caused so much trouble for Leta before. The way he had almost become a murderer ~~accidentally~~ at seventeen. It shouldn't matter, this time. It was only Newt who got injured. Minor injuries at that.  
  
More important was the amount of paperwork he had caused Mister Graves. He could buy coffee for the man. He could buy lots of coffee, and keep him company--  
  
_Stop dreaming, Newt Scamander. He won't welcome you in his office ever again._  
  
He doesn't notice Mister Graves stepping closer. He does notice the hand that Mister Graves lays on the back of his neck. Just...lays it there. Not in a choke hold. But, it's... Just laying there.  
  
Newt does his best impression of a submissive direwolf and stays still. Mister Graves' hand is warm and dry and wonderful. He doesn't understand what's happening.  
  
The hand leaves his neck, and it takes everything Newt has to keep his mouth shut, to not beg for it. His heart is probably galloping faster than a Granian horse.  
  
Mister Graves gently, steadily cards his fingers through Newt's hair. Newt whimpers and his tears flood his eyes and his words flood out of his mouth even faster in a jumbled chain of words and _he doesn't understand_ \--  
  
There are arms around him, holding him steady. He is sobbing into a shoulder-- _into Mister Graves' shoulder, when did he get so close?_ \-- and there are fingers still carding steadily through his hair.  
  
It takes an obscenely long amount of time before Newt calms down. When Newt has subsided into quiet sobbing, Mister Graves moves slightly back to put some space between them, and uses a hand on Newt's chin to make him look up.  
  
Newt can barely see Mister Graves from all the tears still clinging to his lashes. But, he looks. Because it might be the last time. This might be goodbye.  
  
"Newt," Mister Graves starts. Newt will cherish the way Mister Graves spoke his name. "Listen to me very closely. I'll share a secret with you, okay?"  
  
Newt nods weakly. He will miss the feel of Mister Graves' hands on his hair, the feel of his arms around Newt.  
  
"All you need to do is ask me out. I can't... I can't say I appreciate your previous effort, but only because you got hurt, Newt. I was worried about you, and I'm sorry for shouting at you before. That doesn't mean I'm going to drive you out of my life, or avoid you for the rest of time. I like you, and I am definitely interested in you, Newt. So just ask me," Mister Graves says. "No other complicated gestures needed."  
  
Newt felt like he was swimming through taffy.  
  
_Ask...?_  
  
"Would... Would you go out on a date with me, Mister Graves?" Newt croaks out barely loud enough to hear.  
  
"Gladly, Newt. And call me Percival."  
  
There's that small, tender smile on Mister Graves-- _Percival's_ mouth again. Newt realizes suddenly that he likes it more than the one with all the teeth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date Night

Newt is worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

"What do I even do on a date, Pickett? He accepted my invitation, it's a small miracle! Percival! It feels like a dream," Newt confesses to the bowtruckle on his shoulder.

Pickett gestures imperiously, with a few feet stomps for emphasis.

"What? No, Pickett, he wouldn't appreciate wood lice. Or hunting for wood lice together. For Merlin's sake," Newt says, exasperation lacing his tone.

Pickett gestures even more forcefully than before, green branches and leaves flailing.

"I don't know anything that we'll enjoy doing together. I don't know if he has other hobbies. I thought he enjoyed hunting law-breakers, the same way I... _like_... rescuing magical creatures from poachers, but he got mad at me. So I don't know what to do," Newt mutters dejectedly.

Pickett makes an expansive sweeping gesture, makes a sound akin to a huff, and pinches his ear.

"Ow! Alright, I get it, I'll ask him. No need to get violent!"

\- -  
  
He doesn't get to ask immediately. There's a slew of deaths and bizarre, chaotic incidents that has the Auror department in a right tizzy.

Tina says that there's no pattern and very little traces of magic, otherwise they would suspect a particularly crazy dark wizard of Imperiusing No-Majs to do things like tying a bathroom curtain to oneself and setting it on fire. And they're on high alert for Grindelwald, who had escaped from the MACUSA holding cells a few months prior, but this doesn't seem like his modus operandi. The incidents that were happening are not magical or designed to expose magic to No-Majs. It's simple terrorism, with no other underlying motive that they could figure out.

The Aurors all spend longer and longer hours in the office trying to figure it out, and Percival stays the longest of all. Newt isn't keen on bothering him, but he remembers thinking of buying the man some coffee and keeping him company.

So he buys coffee, and some donuts, and hesitantly plops them onto a corner of free space in Percival's paper-covered desk. Percival's head snaps up in surprise from where he was perusing a report.

"Oh, Newt. Hey. Thank you," Percival says with a small smile.

"Y-You're welcome. I thought... I could keep you company," Newt replies, eyes hopeful. Percival's smile becomes a tad bit wider.

"I appreciate it, Newt. I'm sorry I haven't had time for that date. I was looking forward to it, but maybe we could go once this craziness has been taken care of."

"I'd like that," Newt says happily. "Although I don't know what to do on our date. I'm out of ideas for things that we'll both enjoy doing. Do you have any other hobbies?"

Percival huffs amusedly. "No, not really, Newt. I enjoy my work, and I don't have much time for anything else. I am really looking forward to solving this so I could make time for you, you know."

Newt feels his cheeks heat up. He clears his throat and licks his suddenly dry lips. "Well, maybe... Maybe I can help? I'd like to help if I could. Tina already gave me the general overview of the case," Newt suggests timidly, glancing up at Percival under his fringe, gauging Percival's reaction.

"One more mind could only be to our advantage," Percival agrees, taking a sip of his coffee and handing Newt a folder.

He outlines the details of the occurences as Newt pages through the reports. An elderly woman, who tied a bathroom curtain on her waist and set it on fire, like Tina had mentioned. A group of four school children in a playground that suddenly decided eating as much sand as possible were their life's goal. Two office workers who snipped their toes off with very dull scissors. A middle-aged man who loved his dog so much he hammered it to a mush and used it as a lotion--

"Wait!" Newt says frantically. He's gripping a photo of the scene where the office workers had cut their toes off brutally. Percival shuts his mouth with a click, watching Newt intently as Newt hurriedly looks back at the other crime scene photos.

"Flowers!" Newt announces.

Percival is well and truly dazzled at Newt's triumphant smile. "Yes. I can buy you some flowers for our date if you like," he says, only vaguely aware of what's coming out of his mouth.

Newt blinks at him, surprised that Percival hadn't followed his logic and pleased that Percival was thinking about their date. "What? Oh um, daisies would be good, my graphorns love eating them. That wasn't what I meant, though. I found the pattern!"

Percival shook his head, trying to force his mind back on track. "Pattern. You mean the flowers?"

Newt nodded. "Flowers on a sill on the old woman's balcony. Flowers in a row near the edges of the playground. A bouquet of roses in the office. A potted chrysanthemum in the man's living room table. The craziness. Percival, this is a fwooper, a male one, looking for a mate, judging by the extra-strong reactions of the victims!"

Percival makes his way around his desk over to Newt, who had risen from his seat as his impassioned speech gained traction. He gently covers one of Newt's clenched fists with his own hand and squeezes it tenderly until Newt relaxed it.

Newt waits for Percival's reply, anxiousness in every line of his face, dying to know if Percival believed him. Percival raises Newt's hand to his lips and gives it a kiss, much to Newt's very visible confusion.

"I think we should go on that date," Percival says with a smile. Newt blinks, looking flabbergasted.

"What... _Now?_ "

"Yes, now. It's the perfect time, isn't it? There's apparently a fwooper out there that's causing havoc, and I would love nothing more than to make it stop and restore the peace in my city. And I'm gonna need an expert in dealing with fwoopers. And luckily, I know someone who enjoys rescuing misunderstood magical creatures, who would make sure the poor thing would be relocated to its natural habitat away from No-Majs."

Newt beams, eyes sparkling in happiness.

"Ah, um. Yes. Let's. A date. Right. Let's go," Newt stammers, brain not quite working properly. They hold hands as they run to the Apparation point, and don't let go for the rest of the evening.

\- -

The fwooper is caught in less than three hours.

\- -  
  
Percival might have kissed Newt once or twice or thirty times while they were looking for it. No one was there to witness it, though.

\- -

In the morning after, there are six owls waiting for Newt when he wakes up. Each of them bears a gigantic bouquet of different colored daisies.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MACUSA Christmas Ball. For a prompt at the km: 
> 
>  
> 
> I was listening to some jazzy/swing music from the 20s/30s (think Duke Ellington or Glen Miller), and suddenly wanted to read about Newt and Percival going to some kind of MACUSA company ball and dancing together!  
> Percival is very good at dancing and all the ladies want to dance with him because he looks so fine in a tux. Newt is standing around awkwardly (totally not checking out Percival) and Percival comes over to encourage him to dance with someone and jokingly spins Newt in an underarm turn. Newt clumsily falls into Percival's chest and then their dance takes a more romantic tone.. Queenie and Tina watch gleefully from the sidelines, obviously ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wouldn't be able to describe the suits they're wearing properly. But Newt's wearing what Eddie Redmayne wore when he won his Oscar, and Percival's wearing what he wore at Cannes 2015. Assuming they wear suits and not robes. You can just imagine the yummiest suit you can think of, that works too.

Percival usually goes with Seraphina to the MACUSA Christmas ball. They go arm in arm, doing rounds and mingling with the politicians. It's a longstanding arrangement.

However, this year... this year might be the time to break this tradition. He eyes Newt beside him on the couch.

It's been four months. Their relationship moves slowly, but Percival treats everything that happens as minor miracles.

Right now, Newt is as relaxed as he can get. They're in the living room of Percival's apartment. Newt has shed his coat, and his sleeves are folded up to his elbows. His case is sitting quietly in the corner; Percival hasn't yet convinced Newt to let some of the tamer beasts out. However, Newt is writing. Occasionally, he absentmindedly chews on the tip of his quill.

Newt says he can only write reliably at home, in his family's manor. And yet, here he is, writing. The amount of parchment is threatening to bury the small table in front of the couch.

His concentration is such that he doesn't react to the hand that Percival snaked to his waist to pull him closer an hour ago.

Percival decides to take this chance to ask.

"Newt, MACUSA holds an annual Christmas Ball..." Percival starts. Surprisingly Newt nods, although he doesn't take his gaze off the parchment he's writing on.

"Tina told me a week ago. She also told me you always go with Madam President, so she asked me to accompany her for the night as friends and I accepted," Newt states nonchalantly, as if he hasn't just ruined Percival's plan for Christmas.

Percival buries his nose in Newt's hair and breathes deeply until he's sure he won't have any trace of bitterness or anger in his voice. "Alright."

The urge to permanently demote Tina Goldstein is harder to shake off.

\- -

He lies in bed thinking about it for a long time.

He feels... incomplete. His bed seems bigger than before, and the unoccupied pillow on his left haunts him. He misses Newt even now, just two hours after spending time together.

He wants more, with Newt. He wants Newt sleeping beside him, wants to wake up to Newt beside him. He's greedy, he admits to his cold, empty bedroom. Like a parched plant that's watered after being denied water for so long.

He doesn't know what else to do, doesn't have any point of reference. There's no one to compare Newt to. He doesn't want to rush Newt either, but Newt has _issues with words._ Percival's used words before, asked Newt to stay over for the night. Newt had misunderstood and insisted that he could afford to pay for the hotel room.

For all Percival knows, Newt might be waiting for a sign that he was ready for more. Percival's not gonna insist if Newt isn't ready, but he does want Newt to be aware that Percival wanted more.

He's heard Newt talk about different mating dances, so why not?

Oh, right. Goldstein.

... He'll work it out.

He'll talk to Seraphina in the morning.

\- -

He and Seraphina open the Christmas ball with their usual waltz. The urge to drop her hand is overwhelming. He wants to sprint to the pillar where Newt is hiding and trying to minimize contact with other people.

After the dance, he bows deeply to Seraphina and steps away, only for a matron dressed in lurid peach to snatch his hands.

He tunes out her speech about what a surprise it was for him to detach himself from the President, and how honored she was to be able to dance with him. She twirls forcefully, and since she has both of Percival's hands in her own, forces him to twirl in place as well.

He tries to catch a glimpse of Newt every time he is spun by the matron, but it only makes him dizzy. The matron seems to be of the opinion that dancing is comprised of endless twirls.

"Madam Bernett," Percival blurts out, his brain finally supplying the matron's name. The woman mercifully stops spinning him in her surprise.

"You remembered my name, oh my," she crows delightedly.

"I've never forgotten it in the first place, Madam. And, I've located the open bar. I'll fetch us some drinks, and be back in a moment," Percival adds, barely remembering his manners in his haste to get away.

Two steps in Newt's direction, and another hand snags his. He feels rather like pulling out his wand and cursing the young lady in front of him wearing the wrong shade of blue.

The only right shade of blue is Newt's coat. Newt isn't actually wearing it right now; he's got a navy blue suit that Percival's never seen before, which does suit him, except he looks uncomfortable in it. Or maybe that's just because he's uncomfortable with the situation.

He comes back to himself and steps back just in time as the young lady he's dancing with decides to say goodbye to Percival's personal space.

"I thank you for the lovely dance, my lady," Percival forces out through gritted teeth. He bows, heedless of the lady's reaction, and strides towards Newt again.

This time, he dons his _serious business_ face, the one he uses for commanding his Aurors in the field. No one dares touch him and he reaches Newt without further trouble.

Newt, used to observing dangerous beasts in the field, takes Percival in from the ground up. He's full-on blushing from his cheeks to his ears to his neck by the time he meets Percival's gaze.

Percival wants to strip Newt's suit off to count his freckles. Instead, he says, "You look fetching under the fairy lights, Newt. And you've been holding out on me. I've never seen you wearing that before."

"You haven't worn that gray suit before either. Not that there's anything wrong with it. I like it," Newt offers shyly. His eyes are focused somewhere around Percival's collarbone.

The lights dim, and the music transitions to a slow jazz. Something about unicorns.

"Can I have this dance?" Percival asks softly. He extends a hand, telling himself he won't be disappointed too much if Newt declines and hoping against all odds that Newt would accept.

Newt bites his lower lip and takes a deep breath. He bows over Percival's hand. Percival is confused until he remembers that that was the form of acceptance, albeit for women.

He beams at Newt, who grants him a smile. Percival gives him a twirl while they move nearer to the center.

Newt moves with him smoothly, anticipating when to twist and turn and step forward or back or to the side, and Percival loves him. Percival is in love with him, this baffling man.

"You've been practicing behind my back, haven't you?" Percival teases.

Newt pouts. "I had professional instructors when I was a child!"

Percival laughs, much to the astonishment of everyone else around them. He pays it no mind. He's happy and it's Christmas. He's dancing with _Newt._

"Is this to be our mating dance then?" He whispers to Newt's ear. Newt's breath hitches.

"You... Are you serious? You want..." Newt stammers. Percival pulls him close, and they sway under the fairy lights, not actively dancing anymore. Just being close.

"Yes," Percival breathes out. "I like holding you in my arms. If you want, I'd like to share my bed with you, for sleeping. Or more, if you're agreeable."

Newt blushes even more deeply than before, and buries his face Percival's shoulder.

"I'd love to," he mumbles, only loud enough for Percival to hear. Percival drops a tender kiss to Newt's hair.

"I've had enough of this party. What do you say, Mr. Scamander?" He asks.

"I think the mating dance was quite brilliant, Mr. Graves. But to be honest, I'd like to be alone with you now," Newt confesses. He is too adorable for words, and Percival loves him. So much.

Percival takes note of Goldstein giggling with the other Goldstein on their way out. The other Goldstein even cheekily winks at him.

\- -

Newt's freckles are impossible to count without losing track. Percival doesn't mind doing it over and over. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear what you think! 
> 
> Or, alternately, come join me in my puddle of tears on the floor.


End file.
